Page 24 of Sweet Nightmares
Anything but dance.
Nothing. He said nothing. He didn’t turn. He didn’t acknowledge her pain. Just nothing. Instead, he continued to walk away, only coldness following in his wake. He didn’t care. He’d just caused pure and total devastation.
Why would he? He didn’t have a heart.
Jane fell to her knees. Tears stormed down her face like rough, deadly rain. She didn’t have to try to do a pirouette to know it was gone. She felt it ripped from her soul like a physical force. And it felt like dying. She clutched her heart. The pain unbearable. Her chest burned, and her throat was raw from all the screaming because she didn’t stop. The pleas flew from her lips. Over and over and over again. She’d never begged like this. Never. Jane didn’t beg. She endured. She was a fierce mountain, taking on the wilds of winter, taking on a tsunami. She didn’t bend. She didn’t break.
Until now.
Jane thought she’d had nothing else to lose, but she was so utterly wrong.
This was the one thing she had left. The one thing that hadn’t been stolen from her before.
Jane had wanted to ask Nightmare how to reach her magic and control it so she could protect herself from her husband, but now Jane couldn’t stomach even looking at the monster.
He was worse than any abuser she had ever had… because he took away the one thing she loved.
And she would never forgive him for it.
“Get up and come to dinner,” Nightmare said harshly.
Jane didn’t know how long she had stayed on the marble floor of Nightmare’s Castle entranceway, but it must have been a long time because her knees were getting sore, and her voice was nearly gone from all the wailing.
“Get up, put yourself together, and come to dinner,” he said again, this time as a command before he once more disappeared into his dining room.
Jane was forced to comply. It took her about fifteen minutes to accomplish the task, though, because getting herself together was not easy.
Her heels clicked as she entered the room and slid into her seat across the table from him like the Queen of his castle.
“I see you have calmed down,” Nightmare said, his voice cold and empty of all understanding.
Jane swallowed, hatred coating the lining of her stomach. She glowered at him, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it. He simply ate his dinner.
One of his ghost servants served her the same soup he was devouring. Jane picked up the spoon rather too harshly, the metal digging into her palm.
But she sucked in a deep breath and let it go, trying to steady herself and the next words that were to leave her mouth.
“Lord Draculei,“—he liked to be called Lord the most—“please don’t take dance away from me.”
He simply grunted and refused to look up from his meal.
“It’s how I make my living,” Jane said, a creak in her voice. “It’s my life.”
“I have more money than you will ever need.”
“Lord Draculei, please.”
“Enough,” he glared up at her.
“Alexei, please, if you ever do one thing for me. If you only give me one thing in life, please let it be dance. Don’t take this away from me. It’s all I ha—“
“Enough; I don’t want to hear more on this topic.” He cut her off and held up his hand. “Only I get to hurt you, witch.”
No, she opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
Another tear stroked down her face.
He had silenced her forever on this topic. She’d never be able to beg him to give it back now. She’d never be able to convince him he was wrong. And even if she wanted to, she’d never be able to tell him the truth. Dance never hurt her. It wasn’t dance that left the bruises on her body.
